Déjá-vu
by Mirth
Summary: He had always known about it; he never believed in it till now. A one-shot Ron/Hermione fic! Rated for a swear word. Read/Review


**Disclaimer: **_This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

**A/N: **This is my first story! Takes place in the hospital wing during Sixth year where Hermione is recovering from an "ailment" which I don't go into ;) Use your imagination! R/Hr Fluff! Please excuse any grammatical mistakes- I think faster than I can type, although I tried my best to catch them all.

**Déjá-vu**  
By: Mirth 

He had never believed in déjá-vu until now. His father had taught him about it when he was younger; Muggles would use the term when they believed they experienced a moment of time over again. And Ron would pretend to listen to his father excitedly talk about Muggle contraptions and thoughts all the while wondering if someone really wanted to experience a moment in time again, why couldn't they just whip out a Time Turner? But as of right now, Ron Weasley was a firm believer in déjá-vu. 

The way she was lying on the hospital bed, the way her hair billowed around her head like some sort of glorious halo, and the ashen hue of her face were surprisingly reminiscent of their second year, where once again she laid unconscious in the hospital. The only thing different this time was his feelings. 

When she was petrified, he was worried about her because that was what friends do. He wanted her to get better and he missed her, for she was special in his heart, as a friend. But right now, he wasn't sure she was _just_ a friend anymore. He felt something for her, that was all he knew, something different than just _friendship_. There was a time when he never wanted to even be friends with Hermione, never wanted the chance to get to know her, but right now he would give anything to have _more_. And what was worse, when she fell sick, he thought he lost her forever. Madam Pomfrey had assured him and Harry that Hermione would be all right; she had taken a hard hit to her head and was rendered unconscious. But he hadn't known that then, and all he could think of was that he had lost his chance; he would never be able to tell Hermione how he felt. 

The moon slide silently over the night sky and a small shaft of white light filtered through the still room, illuminating Hermione's hair. Often Ron found himself studying her, as he did now, and wondering what exactly one should call Hermione's hair color. It was a wonderful mix of all the browns of the universe: chestnut, russet, and maple. Ron shook himself from these thoughts and remembered what Professor McGonagall said to him and Harry when they fibbed about why they wanted to see Hermione back in their second year. She said petrified people wouldn't be able to hear them. Ron often wondered if this was true; even though Hermione was completely unaware of her surroundings, perhaps his words would filter through if he tried to speak to her. 

Later he would never be able to explain what exactly caused him to abandon his vantage point on the next bed and stride across the short distance to take Hermione's hand. Perhaps it was the shock of almost losing her, or the years of bottling up his feelings from everyone including himself, or perhaps he was simply bored; waiting an entire day in a hospital to keep your unconscious friend company could do that to you. But nevertheless, there he was, holding Hermione's hand and trying to explain the unexplainable in a few inadequate words, how he felt for her. 

"Hermione, I know you can't hear me. I mean if you were awake right now you would tell me how silly this must be, but the thing is, your not awake. Harry and me, or is it Harry and I? See this is why I need you to wake up. Don't look at me like that; you know I don't only like you because you're great at school. That's only a fringe benefit." The fact that Hermione was completely incapable of looking at him at the moment seemed to escape Ron's attention. 

"Look Hermione, you are the best girl friend I ever had; I mean, of course you are the _only_ girl friend I ever had, but you know what I mean. I know we bicker and fight and blow up at each other, but it doesn't mean we aren't friends. You know…Look Hermione, I can be a real jerk sometimes, especially around you, and even I don't know why exactly, until now. I'm not sure when it happened, or how it happened, but look Hermione, well you can't exactly look now, can you?" Ron racked his fingers through his famous, or as Malfoy would have worded it, infamous Weasley red hair in frustration.

 "I don't know any other way to tell you this and I know you can't hear this, but don't you understand I have to say this? I can't keep hiding this inside myself. I think….I think that I might, well perhaps I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you." 

"Oomph!" 

Ron snapped his head up in surprise. The bed across the room from Hermione that until a moment ago occupied the sleeping form of Harry Potter, whom was granted the permission to stay the night after the seven hundred and eighty-third time Madame Pomfrey tried to kick them out of the hospital wing before giving up completely, was now vacated. The bed's inhabitant was presently sprawled on the floor in a weird mix of limbs and bed sheets.

 "Harry," Ron said, while rushing across the room to help his fallen friend back on his feet. "How much did you hear?" 

Harry held out a reassuring hand, not sure if his friend would exercise the Weasley temper and wake Madam Pomfrey and he for one had seen enough of the mediwitch today to last a lifetime. "Ron, it's not like it's new news to me. I mean, it was rather obvious, I suppose." 

Now this was news to Ron. After further questioning Harry revealed the betting pool Seamus Finnigan set up in the Gryffindor tower, where people hypothesized how long it would take for Ron and Hermione to get together, Ron wasn't sure whether it was a compliment that his love life was interesting enough to spark thirty-seven knuts and fifteen sickles. He had to remember to kill Seamus when he got back to the sixth year dormitory. 

"You should really tell her, for real," Harry began slowly. 

Ron watched Harry carefully. He supposed he would always be the tragic hero; the poor boy that lost his parents and was destined to waste his years fighting against the supreme evil. But Harry had friends, friends that would and have sacrificed it all for him, and for that Ron knew he was eternally grateful. He would do anything for Ron as Ron would do anything for him. And something about his facial expression made Ron think Harry was wishing he could tell him what he wanted to hear, that Hermione felt the same way about him. But like Ron, Harry wasn't sure that was the truth and all he could do was reassure his self-conscious friend. And for that, Ron knew he was eternally grateful for having a chap like Harry as his best friend. 

"Look mate, no matter what, we're your best friends. Just remember that. You want to head up to the Common Room?" 

Ron shook his head to signal the word "no", Harry's words still registering through it. He just wasn't ready to leave her side; he wasn't sure if he would ever be ready. Harry nodded understandably. "Well I'm going to head up, the hospital wing isn't exactly my ideal place to get some sleep. You better turn in soon. We have Potions first thing in the morning." And with that Harry was gone. 

Ron watched him go and had almost worked himself into the frame of mind to accompany him. He wasn't sure what prompted him to confess everything to Hermione; she didn't hear a word of his admission and something told him that it would be too hard to say it all again. He started to make his way to the door and would have been sleeping peacefully or as peacefully as one could after confessing their love to their unconscious best friend in a few minutes, when one word stood in his way. "Wait." 

He knew that voice. He could have recognized it anywhere. There was Hermione, sitting up in her bed, wearing a ratty, old hospital gown and bed hair and all Ron could think was that she was the single most beautiful girl he had ever seen. "You heard?" It was more of a statement than a question; they both knew the answer. 

She nodded her head slowly. "And I think you know how I feel about you." 

That was all she needed to say. Suddenly, Ron felt all the air rush out of him like the time George sat on him for stealing his Chocolate Frogs. He wanted to run out of the hospital wing and go somewhere, anywhere, but he couldn't. Weasley pride was standing in the way. He couldn't let her know how much she had hurt him; she didn't feel the same way about him. 

But Hermione was completely unaware of the many thoughts running through Ron's head at the moment. "You always tease me about my History of Magic essays. 'What could you possibly write about that would take up three scrolls?' Words have never failed me Ron, until now." 

Ron looked back at the _goddess,_ for that was what she was, in his eyes at least, expecting to see sympathy or concern in an attempt to 'put him down gently'. But what meet his eyes were blushing cheeks and Hermione refusing to make eye contact with him. And that was when he knew. He didn't need her words to know how she felt about him. And yet, he couldn't do the expected thing, run to her and gather her up in his arms, despite how much he wanted to. So, he did the only thing he knew how to with Hermione. 

"Jeez Hermione! Don't you have any manners? Harry and me…No, I mean, Harry and I, were worried sick about you! Don't you know that? If you were awake, you should have told us!" 

"Ron…" 

"No! Don't 'Ron' me. You always lecture me about stupid stuff: '_Ron_, do you Divination homework. _Ron, _don't be mean to Crookshanks_._ _Ron,_ of course you can't copy off me.' Well, you listen to this; next time you are supposed to be unconscious, but are really awake, you better bloody well tell someone!" 

"Ron…oh excuse me. I'm not allowed to say your name right?" 

"Well, I don't see why you should. You couldn't say "Ron" when I was making a bloody fool of myself. Honestly, Hermione!" 

"Well, fine! You great, insufferable git! Is that better, because that's how you're acting? You want to know how I feel?" 

"No…not really." A mad Hermione, even when recovering from a near death experience, was still a scary sight." 

"Well I'm going to tell you anyway. And don't roll your eyes at me! I AM IN BLOODY LOVE WITH YOU" 

"Hermione," Ron gasped, "You cursed!" 

Hermione took a deep steadying breath, all the while praying that Madam Promfrey and Filch wouldn't break down the doors any second now. Their rows were known to be rather loud. "Well, I'm sorry then." 

"I'm sorry for 'lecturing' you" 

"Well I'm sorry for not telling you…." And suddenly Hermione was unable to finish whatever she was trying to say; for Ron's lips were over her own and any coherent thoughts were flown out the window. 

"And I'm sorry for interrupting you," Ron barely whispered, before reaching down and capturing her lips again. They kept up with this "activity" until the first signal for students to get to the Great Hall for breakfast rang. 

"Take good notes for me," Hermione ordered. 

'Herm, it's me," said Ron, trying unsuccessfully to straighten out his hair. 

" Ron! Well, then tell Seamus to take good notes for me." 

"Only after I kill him first." 

"You better not harm a Prefect, Ron!" 

"Oh, trust me, you won't be saying that after I tell you what he did, but I'll save that for later." 

Ron was almost to the door before he turned around to glance at Hermione, who looked exhausted, but happy. "Say Hermione, do you believe in déjá-vu?" 

"Déjá-vu?" she gave a little laugh, wondering where Ron pulled that from. " I suppose so. Why?" 

"Oh, just wondering. You know, if this 'déjá-vu' stuff _is_ true, then I hope I get a repeat performance of all that snogging soon." And with a wink, he was gone. 

_Fin _

**A/N:** Yes, I know its rather OOC for Hermione to curse, but it worked in the story! I hoped you liked this!! Please Read and **Review**!! (whispers: click the purple button down there!)


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